


Ding!

by Guardian Of The Lotus (DistantStorm)



Series: Fictober 2019 [28]
Category: Destiny (Video Games)
Genre: Excessive Dinging, Gen, hunters being hunters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-28
Updated: 2019-10-28
Packaged: 2021-01-05 13:18:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,112
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21209192
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DistantStorm/pseuds/Guardian%20Of%20The%20Lotus
Summary: In which Zavala is forced to take action and the Drifter pleads the fifth.For day 28 of the Fictober 2019 Challenge on Tumblr: "Enough! I heard enough."





	Ding!

****

Zavala’s jaw ticks, only once. He remains perfectly still for an indeterminable number of moments. Before him, the City continues on, the Traveler’s fragments making a smooth, rapid orbit around it above them. 

Behind him, Tower life continues.

The flavor of the week is always something. For the longest time, it had been strange dance-offs in long forgotten styles, with no real winner following the proceedings. In fact, only exact replication by others was considered to be superior to any outlandish new rhythmic expressions.

This time, the latest craze has (seemingly) nothing to do with Eververse.

Now, it’s no secret that the Vanguard has “benevolently” allowed the Drifter lease within the annex, in a shady hallway, away from prying eyes. And it’s no secret that the Drifter’s game catches the attention of many. Including some that don’t exactly appreciate it.

If Zavala has to hear Shaxx’s ramblings about how someone ought to throw Drifter off the Tower one more time, he might consider throwing the both of them over a railing to see if they’ll unite against him instead. It might be easier that what he’s presently forced to endure.

Actually, that isn’t quite right. The Shaxx-Drifter non-rivalry (but yes, it’s a rivalry, even if no party will admit it), isn’t the thing most obnoxious to Commander Zavala at this present moment.

_Ding._

_Ding._

_Ding._

Argh. Zavala is not the kind of man who would outwardly scoff, so instead his eye twitches. Which is just as well, because he has his back to the wayward (he’s suspecting Hunter) Guardian. No one has to know.

But then, as is true to form in the Tower, another Guardian joins the fray. Based on what intel the Commander has from his periphery, they’re both standing just far enough back that he can’t reach behind himself to take the coins from their hands.

And, because the fates clearly design to torture him this day, they’re just ever so slightly out of sync.

_Di-ding!_

_Di-ding!_

_Di-Ding!_

He bangs his fists just the slightest bit harder against the smooth steel of the railing. He is a pillar. A rock. He has endured the utmost torment from a bored Cayde-6. He should be prepared for this.

Several minutes later, when it hasn’t stopped, he bangs his gloved fists against the railing and feels the steel bend. It’s a momentary distraction. Later, when no one is looking he’ll heat the steel and even it back out. No one will ever know.

One of his Titans approaches and it gives him a proper look at the Guardians dinging. He assists his subordinate quickly - he might be a touch shorter than usual, but unfortunately even he has his limits, and they are rapidly approaching.

Resisting the urge to tap his foot, which is strange enough for a man who is usually so still, Commander Zavala asks, “Do you really have to keep doing that?”

“Doing what?” The Hunters tilt their heads, never once stopping what they’re doing.

Zavala does groan, well, it’s more like a sigh and an exasperated one at that. “As you were,” He finally says, as if this is a battle and he’s settled on his opponent.

The Hunters do their best not to laugh, even though they’re going to hear about this for the next hundred years from their Ghosts, and continue.

_Di-ding!_

_Di-ding!_

_Di-Ding!_

He tries to hold out, he really, really does. It’s been four hours of incessant ‘ding’-ing and quite frankly, he’s going to hear this in his sleep tonight, assuming no unavoidable emergency robs him of that in addition to his sanity. 

“Enough!” He finally growls, whirling around. Regaining a modicum of control, he clears his throat. “I have heard enough.”

Though startled, the Hunters do not stop, and thus Zavala grabs them by the scruff of their cloaks and drags them through the Tower proper. Shaxx bellows something approving, Rahool nods politely, Banshee is too busy trying to locate a part he’s forgotten he’d put on the desk already to notice.

In the Bazaar, Zavala slows for a brief moment to share an unimpressed glance with the Warlock Vanguard, ignoring Suraya Hawthorne’s rather amused pose in the meantime, then makes an abrupt right and begins the descent into the Annex, the errant Hunters in tow.

“Uh, Zavala, where are we-”

The good Commander thrusts the two of them through the doorway and clears his throat. Three Guardians in the corner transmat away immediately, for fear of being spotted, but it’s already too late. “Drifter,” Zavala says, in that cool tone, as if he’s meeting the rogue Lightbearer for a business meeting, as if... they _know_ each other, “I believe these two belong to you.”

“I don’t know nothin’ about nothin’,” Drifter says, hands up, a snarling look upon his face.

“Do it,” he says to the two Hunters, and the Drifter flinches.

“Do what-” He takes a swaggering step forward, “I don’t want no trouble, certainly not with the Vanguard. Whatever these two did it wasn’t-”

_Ding._

Drifter waves his hands, jerky and disgruntled, realization hitting him like a whip-crack. “Oh no, you can have them. I finally just got them t’leave me the hell alone.” He makes a shoo-ing motion with his hands and the Hunters get the idea that they better take a hike. 

The Commander’s piercing gaze renders them still mid-escape. “Wait,” The one says to the other, “He knows about the Drifter?”

Zavala chuckles. That’s not good. “Bold of you to assume I don’t know what happens in _my_ house.” He gestures with a wide hand to the assortment of them littered across the workbench and floor. “I wonder who gave you those shiny coins, hm?”

He makes an about face and heads through the doorway. They take a shaky step forward, toward the exit as well, and the Commander freezes, as if he has eyes in the back of his head. “I don’t hear any dinging,” He comments idly.

“No. You two even think about flipping a coin and-”

_Ding!_

“We technically work for him, Drifter.” One of them says, remorsefully.

“You pledged yourselves to me,” He reminds them.

“And you wanted us to play nice, remember?” The other quips back, flicking their coin as well.

_Ding!_

“You’re the sorriest Dregdens I ever saw,” He says, flicking a coin into the Cabal helm on his workbench. “See if I ever send you back to Emerald Cove.” 

_Ding!_

He shakes his head. Bad move for them. “Somethin’ tells me you two are gonna be gettin’ ol’ Drifter a whole lotta motes on Titan.”

The Hunters groan in tandem. Good, Drifter thinks. Maybe they’ll cut the nonsense.

_Ding!_

… Wishful thinkin’.


End file.
